Indigo Nights (Nights #3)(49)

His voice was calm and steady, but I could tell by the way his hands fisted by his sides that what he was telling the room wasn’t an easy confession.

“When I left home for college I found this incredible charity, which we are here tonight to support. They educated first me, and then my father, on my mother’s condition, and they paid for my mother’s medication and her therapy. Eventually I got the mother I should have had twenty years earlier, and my father got back the wife he married. Tonight, with your generous donations, we’ve made it possible to give countless people back their families. Thank you.”

My forehead was tight with sorrow; as he returned to the table I tried to hold back my tears for him.

He’d never mentioned his parents before. My stomach dipped, and I felt as if I hadn’t had enough time with him. I wanted to know everything about him. In some ways, it felt as if we’d known each other forever. I didn’t think I’d experienced real intimacy before Dylan, and his speech was evidence that there was so much more to know.

As he sat down, I grabbed his hand under the table and ran my thumb across his wrist. “I think you’re very special,” I whispered into his ear.

He smiled tightly, keeping his eyes facing forward.

“I meant what I said to Alicia. I’m not going to let you go. I was actually thinking of extending my trip.”

He turned toward me and raised his eyebrows. “Because of my speech?”

“For of a lot of reasons. You’re probably busy, but while you’re at work perhaps you’d lend me your kitchen for an afternoon?”

“Will you promise to greet me at the door in nothing but an apron and high heels?”

I laughed, pleased he could still make me happy as well as sad. “How long have you held that image in your head?”

His grin spread wide across his face. “A while.”

“Well, you’ll have to tell me every one of your fantasies and we’ll see which ones we can make come true.” I winked at him.

“You’re all I need,” he whispered. My heart expanded in my chest as I reached up to kiss his cheek. He had other ideas and explored my mouth urgently, as if we were at home without an entire ballroom watching us.



The next evening, I woke in Dylan’s arms as he carried me up the steps to his brownstone. I’d agreed to spend Saturday night at his place, and Don had picked me up from the studio. I’d been up since four, and we hadn’t slept much after the gala. With the run-in with Alicia and getting to know about Dylan’s mother, I hadn’t wanted to a miss a moment with him. I was clearly paying for it now.

“You can sleep, my sweet.”

“I want to talk to you.”

He kissed the top of my head, setting me down on a softer-than-air sofa.

“This is comfy.”

He chuckled. “Can I get you a drink?”

“Some water would be good.”

I combed my fingers through my hair and sat up, taking in my surroundings. The room had a bright, almost beachy feel. A dark wood table sat in front of the squishy sofa and another, higher table was placed over by one of the long, shuttered windows. A collection of photographs adorned the surface, and as much as I wanted to go and investigate, my legs didn’t share my enthusiasm. The walls were decorated with black and white photographs of scenes of what looked like Cuba.

“I like your place,” I said as Dylan came in carrying a tray.

“I’ll show you around later,” he said, setting down the tray. “Are you sure you don’t want to go straight to sleep? You’ve had a long day.”

I shook my head. “Oh my. You are the perfect man, aren’t you?” Along with my drink, he’d brought in a slice of chocolate cake.

He pecked me on the lips, but before he could pull away, I grabbed his collar and pulled him over me. He groaned and kissed me properly, pushing his tongue against mine, as if he were looking for a deeper connection.

He pulled back, leaving me panting, and handed me a glass.

“Thank you. And cake? You’re spoiling me.”

Dylan grinned as he rearranged himself and pulled me into him. “I watched your slot and your interview. You were amazing.”

My face heated. “I wasn’t amazing, but it was fun. I enjoyed myself.”

“You were amazing. I imagine most of the male population of Illinois had their right hand down their pants while they were watching, so I’m not sure how many of your viewers you’ll convert to baking.”

I slapped him on the arm. “It was only a teeny segment.”

“Yeah, but they were running trailers all morning, and they interviewed you live. You were the focus of the whole show. I recorded it; we can watch it if you like.” He reached for the remote control but I grabbed his hand.

“No. Please. I’ll die of embarrassment.” I curled up against him.

“Later then.”

“Maybe never,” I mumbled.

He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me closer. “You can’t pretend it didn’t happen. It’s exciting—like the stuff you do on YouTube, just bigger and with more people watching.”

“I guess. But I don’t want to think about any of that now. I just want to be here, with you.”

My phone rang and Dylan went to collect my purse, though I didn’t ask him to. It was such a small thing, but it made me feel like we were a team—he was looking after me, and I wanted to look after him. This was what it should be about, shouldn’t it?